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When William Willders reached the small door of Number 6, Poorthing Lane, and raised his hand to knock, the said door opened as if it had been trained to admit visitors of its own accord, and Miss Matty Merryon issued forth, followed by a bright blue-eyed girl of about twelve years of age. "Well, boy, was ye comin' here?" inquired Matty, as the lad stepped aside to let them pass. "Yes, I was.
When Forest reached the field of action, Mr James Auberly was seen at an upper window in a state of undignified dishabille, shouting for help, and half suffocated with smoke, with Mrs Rose hanging round his neck on one side and Matty Merryon at the other.
"I should have been dead by this time if you hadn't interfered," she said. "I haven't got any affairs." "Then it's up to me to look after you," Merryon said, quietly. But she shook her head at that more vigorously still. "You look after me!" Her voice trembled on a note of derision. "Sure, you're joking!" she protested. "I've looked after myself ever since I was eight."
The boy pulled himself together with an effort. He was white to the lips. "There's cholera broken out," he said. "Forbes and Robey both down at their own bungalow. And they've got it at the barracks, too. Macfarlane's there. Can you come?" "Of course at once." Merryon pulled him forward. "Go in there and get a drink while I speak to my wife!"
Colonel Davenant looked at him aggressively, obviously longing to pierce that stubborn calm with which Merryon had so long withstood the world. But Merryon remained unmoved, though deep in his private soul he knew that the colonel was right, knew that he had decided upon a course of action that involved a risk which he dreaded to contemplate. "Oh, look here, Merryon!"
"Things went wrong?" insinuated the Dragon-Fly, sitting down on her heels in a childish attitude of attention. "Yes," Merryon admitted, in his sullen fashion. "Things went wrong. I found I was the son of a thief. He's dead now, thank Heaven. But he dragged me under first. I've been at odds with life ever since." "But a man can start again," said the Dragon-Fly, with her air of worldly wisdom.
She finished her sandwich and sat for a while lost in thought. Merryon leaned back in his chair, watching her. The little, pointed features possessed no beauty, yet they had that which drew the attention irresistibly. The delicate charm of her dancing was somehow expressed in every line. There was fire, too, a strange, bewitching fire, behind the thick black lashes.
All I've got to say is, that you'd better be wise and take my advice, and think better of it." So saying, Gorman went out, and slammed the door after him. Meanwhile, Miss Matty Merryon, having purchased a small phial of turpentine, returned to Number 6, and ushered Willie Willders into the presence of her mistress.
"They look like alabaster, don't they?" She caught a cluster to her and held it against her cheek for a moment. Merryon was close behind her. She seemed to realize his nearness quite suddenly, for she let the flowers go abruptly and flitted on. He followed her till, at the farther end of the veranda, she turned and faced him. "Good-night, Billikins," she said, lightly.
"Billikins," she said, "let me stay down for a little!" Her lips were quivering. She kicked his chair agitatedly. "I don't want to go," she said, dismally. "Let me stay anyhow till I get ill!" "No," Merryon said. "It can't be done, child. I can't risk that. Besides, there'd be no one to look after you." She slipped to her feet in a flare of indignation. "You're a pig, Billikins!
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